Burn the Moon
by IcarusIscariot
Summary: Ryan is only a breath away from her now, only a step away and she can smell the faint smell of cheap cologne and the yogurt he always has for lunch. It is a strange mixture, artificial musk and apple fritter, but not entirely unpleasant.


**Title:** Burn the Moon  
 **Author:** IcarusIscariot  
 **Categories:** Angst, Romance **  
** **Characters/Pairing:** Hermione/Ryan with some vague one-sided Hermione/Pam  
 **Summary:** "Ryan is only a breath away from her now, only a step away and she can smell the faint smell of cheap cologne and the yogurt he always has for lunch. It is a strange mixture, artificial musk and apple fritter, but not entirely unpleasant."  
 **Beta:** None  
 **Rated:** M  
 **Warnings:** Disjointed text, implied sex, escapism and lackluster wit.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or The Office; I just enjoy taking it out of the book and playing with the characters.  
 **Notes:** This was written as a birthday gift to my friend Stella, since she's always loved the idea of Hermione in the Office-verse. This is probably going to be really confusing for some people, because I skim over a lot of background information and skip most explanation, but it's really a continuation of the story Stella is working on right now.  
I got the idea for the formatting from Thesiusl's story "Maria and Dottlan." Unfortunately, both the author's profile and the story were deleted after Thesiusl was harassed and eventually left.

* * *

...

(She takes the job because the position is open and seemingly uncomplicated, and Hermione's heart fucking _leaps_ at the thought of melting into obscurity away from the eye of the public.)

...

The first day of her new job is a video tapped nightmare where she comes close to breaking down more than once, but the gentle throbbing of the wand tucked safely in its holster keeps her grounded to reality. (Still, it is getting much harder to remember where the border between actuality and falsehood resides.)

It's not all bad though, in fact Hermione rather likes the receptionist.

Her name is Pamela and she is nice and sweet and Hermione wonders how those pretty lips would feel pressed against her own. She smells like cherry lip-gloss and something older, something dreadfully sinful – every morning Pam wets her lips with the scent of crushed apple lip balm and a thin layer of pink sparkle. Innocent but dreadfully seductive and, God, how Hermione wants to kiss away that fucking gloss until –

Somewhere in the background, she can hear the soft whispering of Michael and Dwight in the conference room.

She wonders how long it is before she quits.

...

"That's well and good, but what are your opinions on _Dickens_?"

Hermione looks up from the slightly soggy frittata she had zapped in the microwave, her lips twisted into what could only be described as a pretentious sneer. "He's _dull_ and overly moralizing, but mostly dull."

Oscar nods in agreement, "After reading him you can't get the stink of Victorian off your clothes for at least a week."

Hermione snorts and pushes around the bits of red pepper coming from her egg-based snack, she stabs the wayward pieces with her fork and sticks them into her mouth with little preamble. The sweet peppers sit on her tongue for a moment before she swallows them whole.

Oscar is nice like Pam, but in a different way. He talks to her about ethnics and straightens his ties to perfection and looks absolutely overjoyed to have met someone who understands the struggle between loving James Joyce and hating the convoluted mess that is his prose.

Her fork taps lightly against the porcelain of her saucer and she smiles.

"So, what are your thoughts on stem cells?"

...

 **You have two (2) unheard messages.**

" _Hermione where in Merlin's name are you? Ron is beside himself, positive that he caused th–_ "

 **Your message has been deleted.**

" _This is your mom, call me. We need to tal–_ "

 **Your message has been deleted.**

...

Three weeks in and she can feel herself slowly slipping away into the never-ending pattern of mediocrity, becoming a faceless cog who likes literature and can be very persuasive when she wants to be. It comes in handy for the few sales she bothers to make.

(Hermione doesn't need the money, she never will.)

She sits at the same block as Jim and Dwight. It is a disaster she has a front row seat for – sometimes, not that she'd ever outright admit it, she sees Ron in Dwight's bulbous frame and Harry in Jim's lanky tallness. It slaps her in the face every time Jim run his hand through just so or every time Dwight stops the flow of the office similar to how Ron no doubt would if ever given the chance.

It _frightens_ her, because she is not supposed to care about these people.

"Granger," Dwight barks, Hermione doesn't bother to look up from the page in her hand, "let me borrow your stable. _Someone_ stole mine."

She grabs the black device off her desk, half tempted to throw at him, and hands it off with relatively ease.

This is a normal day.

In the conference room the lights flicker.

...

 **You have two (2) unread messages from [Harry (488) 381…]**

(4:50 am) _Hermione why won't you answer my messages?_

(4:52 am) _Are you safe?_

...

Hermione stands outside of Dunder Mifflin, sixteen ounces of cherry coke resting limply in her hand – her hair is pinned into a restrictive knot that does nothing to calm its incessant frizzing. She has been here for two months and she feels too tired to spend another day within the confines of the off-white walls.

She misses Britain dearly.

To her back the heavy metal door gives a shuttering crash as it slams against the door frame, Hermione doesn't bother to turn around and instead tucks a single hand into the deep pockets of her duffle coat. Her fingers trace over the engraved handle of her wand, she remains fixated on a nearby parked delivery truck as she traces the pattern of snow fall with wandering eyes.

There is no danger here, she tells herself, none at all. Relax.

Heavy steps move towards her, the loose grip she kept on her wand tightens until her fingers threaten to splinter the wood with the strength of her hold. Behind her the sound of a lighter flickering, again and again and again, quickly followed by a colorful array of cursing.

"Fuck," he mumbles, "do you have a light?"

Hermione finally turns, keeping her face carefully neutral – she watches Rodney… no, Ryan. She watches Ryan wave a cheap red lighter around in her hand as if to illustrate the extent of his predicament.

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione produces a small box of matches from her purse; Ryan gives her a strange look but doesn't comment on her choice of fire starters. Instead he takes the small box and flicks the wooden match against the side. Lifting the flame to his fag, he takes an abnormally long drag, allowing the smoke to sit in his lungs, contaminating them further.

Ryan moves closer to her, box of matches held out in his hand; he is close to her now, it makes her uncomfortable. She carefully rearranges the slowly emerging look of deer-like fear into something more palatable and twists herself further away from him under the pretense of putting the matches back into her bag.

They stand like that for a moment until Hermione hazards a quick glance his direction, but he's no longer looking. He is staring firmly at the sky, all bright-eyed and pale, taking in the sight of the overcast heavens and the soft glow of the building's yellow tinted lights. When he notices her look, he smirks – it begins in his eyes and twisting to his lips as he levels a look of pure joy and amusement her direction.

His smirk is something familiar to her – something entitled, something privileged. It is definitely something he has perfected for to the cameras.

Ryan is only a breath away from her now, only a step away and she can smell the faint smell of cheap cologne and the yogurt he always has for lunch. It is a strange mixture, artificial musk and apple fritter, but not entirely unpleasant.

"I like your lipstick," he whispers. She burrows her brows, confused and not entirely sure of what she just heard. "You lipstick," he says again, louder this time. "It's pretty."

Hermione stares at him for a moment, as if trying to figure him out before turning her attention to the falling snow, "I'll loan it to you."

...

 **You have one (1) unread message from [Ryan Howard (398) 268…]**

(3:29 am) _want to go out sometime?_

 **You have seven (7) unread messages from [Harry (488) 381…]**

(3:50 am) _Hermione?_

(3:52 am) _It's been two weeks, where are you?_

(3:56 am) _Is this because of Ron?_

(3:56 am) _He's changed since then, you know that._

(4:27 am) _Seriously, Hermione, he didn't mean to._

(4:30 am) _Ginny misses you, she's pregnant._

(4:42 am) _It'd be nice to hear from you is all I'm saying._

...

Her business phone rings and by habit she picks it up, presses it between her shoulder and ear as she continues to flip through the pages of her worn Frankenstein.

"This is Hermione."

A pause.

"Yeah," the voice says, "I know."

She frowns and puts down her book, pages against the cheap wood of her desk, "Ryan?"

"Yeah," he repeats.

"Why are you _calling_ me, you're right down the hall."

Ryan groans over the line, "I have something to show you."

She recognizes that tone – it was that tone Harry used before the Department of Mysteries, before the Finale Battle, after Ron left… its part begging, part carefully placed wit and just a dash of self-important heroism. Hermione casts a look to her book and the door to the annex before looking back at her book; she sighs, long and hard, as she places the phone against the hook switch.

Hermione picks up her book and begins to read again.

The last thing she needs is to get involved with people remotely like Harry.

...

(Ryan calls her two more times before she sets down her book and enters the annex. His business outline was not worth the trip.)

...

A week later brings the company's Christmas party and with it alcoholic drinks as provided by Meredith, who managed to expose both her vagina and breasts at various times during Hermione's short time in the break room with her.

By the time they return to the party Hermione is red faced and holding a bag of skittles motionlessly in her hand.

It comes as no surprise that when Meredith offers her a glass of straight up vodka, Hermione gleefully accepts and downs it in two long gulps. She goes back for more and before Hermione knows it, she's staring at Pam like she's the only thing in the world and maybe she is.

Pamela Beesley is bloody beautiful.

So, yes, maybe nothing else exists outside of the frail, feminine body of her co-worker, but Hermione is so drunk that when she goes to tell her that she's pretty, all that comes out is vaguely interesting sounds muffled by the fabric of Pam's cardigan.

...

(Pam drives her to her house after and has Jim help her drag her sleeping form out from the car and into the house. Hermione awakes to the smell of eggs and bacon. It is the closest to happy she has been in a long time.)

...

 **You have three (3) unread messages from [Ryan Howard (398) 268…]**

(1:25 am) _holy shit_

(1:26 am) _i can't believe you did that_

(1:26 am) _how drunk were you?_

 **You have eight (8) unread messages from [Kelly Kapoor (856) 238…]**

(12:46 pm) _omg u r so embarrassing_

(12:47 pm) _i cant believe u did that_

(12:48 pm) _u r such a loser lol_

(12:48 pm) _jk_

(1:17 am) _ugh everyone is talking about u_

(1:18 am) _it's so boring to overhear ppl talking about someone who isnt me_

(1:20 am) _omg ryan just came over!_

(1:20 am) _ttyl_

...

The hugging debacle is blown out of proportion, as expected, and Hermione spends her time hidden in the annex with Ryan and Kelly. The incident reminds her dreadfully of Rita Skeeter's article, only then she didn't have a boss unsubtly probing to see if she did it with the receptionist.

(She was drunk, she obviously didn't.)

Kelly keeps talking about something about Drake this and Usher that, but Hermione cannot seem to force herself to care. Instead she perches on the edge of Ryan's desk with a book in hand.

Good Omens this time.

A large hand wraps around her ankle while she reads, Ryan's eyes reach for her own and they share something… not a moment or a thought. Nothing nearly as important, it was something, though.

...

(Jim leaves and Ryan takes his spot, if she lays her head against her desk just right she has the perfect view of the mole peaking out just above his shirt collar.)

...

Hermione stops watching Pam and starts watching Ryan, watching the way his muscles go tense whenever he hears Michael's door open or how he yawns by rolling his shoulders as he leans back in his chair.

Dwight hates him, glares viciously and disconnects his computer under the pretense of Ryan's cords mingling with his and causing a safety hazard that threatened the wellbeing of everyone in the office. Not that she can blame him, in many ways Jim was a sweet, albeit rude, ball of hilarity, but Ryan is mild in comparison and overly obsessed with youth and chasing the coattails of impossible dreams.

(He is a refreshing breath of air on her palate and she wonders what it would taste like if she were to drink him in.)

...

 **You have two (2) unread messages from [Boss (364) 749…]**

(2:28 pm) _ryan wont reply to my messages, are u with him?_

(2:29 pm) _you r arent u_

(2:29 pm) _is he ok?_

 **You have five (5) unread messages from [Oscar (628) 174…]**

(2:00 pm) _We're still on for tonight's trivia tournament, right?_

(2:03 pm) _Don't worry, I asked the judges if it was alright if you entered and they said it was._

(2:07 pm) _Gil is coming, I hope you don't mind. He wants to meet you._

(2:08 pm) _So do all my friends, actually._

(2:10 pm) _We're all carpooling, so I'll need your physical address since it'd be an invasion of privacy to look in your file. Unless you'd prefer that?_

...

Dwight is on the phone when she gets up to eat, he pays her no mind as she gets up and walks towards the break room in search of the salad she bought early that morning from a fast food joint. She had placed it in the refrigerator after arriving at work, but knew better than to assume that it'd remain there.

Hermione pushes open the door with a tired sigh, vaguely wondering if she remembered to set that muggle alarm she had bought herself.

"Hey."

She looks up at the words and watches the way Ryan leans against the counter top, scooping out the insides of his yogurt cup with a cheap, plastic spoon from the silverware drawer. She can smell the nauseating whiff of sweet fruit from across the walkway.

Apple fritter … So predictable.

Hermione sends him a tight lipped smile, too tired and hungry to bother with anything else.

Yanking open the handle of the fridge and looking inside the icebox, Hermione is (as expected) unable to find her salad. She rubs the bridge of her nose and begins walking towards the vending machine for something edible.

Ryan follows closely behind, empty container and spoon in hand, and sends her his trademark cheeks-sucked-in, _I know something you don't know_ grin before settling down at the table closest to her. "Five bucks says the only thing you've accomplished today was winning a game of solitary."

Hermione snorts and places six quarters into the slot before hitting the buttons for a small package of cherry pop tarts. She slides down across from him and opens the package; she silently offers him one with an amused smile.

"So, how are you going to pay up," he asks as he waves off the gesture, his fingertips tracing the rim of his empty lunch.

"Four wins," she says, "And it was Hearts, not Solitaire."

...

(In the parking lot he stops her and hands her a crumpled five dollar, he smirks and Hermione feels her face flushing as she unlocks her car. Across the street three windows shatter.)

...

 **You have two (2) unread messages from [Ryan Howard (398) 268…]**

(6:25 pm) _do you want to go out sometime?_

(6:30 pm) _as friends, of course_

...

"Did I miss anything," Jim asks as he casually as he draped the strap of his bag across Ryan's chair.

Hermione narrows her eyes and puts down her beloved copy of Matilda before turning fully towards Jim. She stares silently at him until Dwight saunters towards them or rather towards Jim, and Hermione wisely turns back to her desk to begin the work she has for the day.

She only looks up when Ryan comes in and sets his own bag on the desk, and even then it's only a slight adjustment of her head so that she can both watch the unfolding actions of her desk mates and continue her typing.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jim says. "… Are you sitting here now?"

Ryan meets Hermione's for a moment and rolls his eyes without the actual eye roll, " _Yeah_."

"Oh."

Ryan insincerely offers the chair back to Jim if he wants it – a ploy Hermione sees through instantly – and ends up with ownership of the seat, forcing Jim to take the seat across from Meredith. He sends Hermione a smile as he types rapidly on his computer.

A small IM window pops up on her computer.

...

 **(8:03:27 am) Ryan_Howard** : give any thought to my offer?

 **(8:03:58 am) H_Granger** : Yes, I have.

 **(8:04:42 am) Ryan_Howard** : well?

 **(8:05:37 am) H_Granger** : Does Saturday at 8:30 work for you?

 **(8:06:55 am) Ryan_Howard** : yeah

 **(8:07:12 am) Ryan_Howard** : i'll pick you up

 **(8:07:54 am) Ryan_Howard** : where do you live?

...

Having no aspiration to watch people fight in Sumo costumes for Michael's job, Hermione stretches herself out against the folding lounge chair she brought with her to the Lake. Hermione adjusts the floppy hat that, unsurprisingly, keeps flopping into her eyes before pulling off her sunglasses and wiping off the gunk that had settled on them.

After, she grabs a relatively new paperback from her collection and a bottle of sunscreen; she places the book on top of her bag and began to rub the sun screen into her exposed body – legs, arms, clavicle and face.

A shadow crosses over her body and she looked up, Ryan stands beside her for a moment before plopping down on the spread towel she had placed out when she had been under the false impression that she would be having fun.

Hermione continues to protect her already bronze skin against the sun's rays without sparing him much thought.

Ryan watches her for a long moment, "You missed a spot."

"Excuse me?"

"You missed a spot," he repeats as he pointed at a small patch of skin on her thigh. "You haven't rubbed any _there_."

"Thanks." Hermione squirts some sun block into her hand and messages it into the spot he had indicated.

He nodded and turned back to watch Dwight and Andy fight.

...

 **You have four (4) unread messages from [Andrew Bernard (570) 493…]**

(2:43 pm) _there is a mocking bird outside!_

(2:44 pm) _eatng a strudel_

(2:47 pm) _why aren't you out here yet?_

(2:50 pm) _hermy! COME_

 **You have three (3) unread messages from [Harry (488) 381…]**

(3:57 pm) _James Sirius Potter was born today, you should see him Hermione._

(3:58 pm) _He's beautiful._

(4:00 pm) _You're the godmother._

...

"So, you're going to apply to the job in corporate?"

Ryan nods, moving his feet through the water – the two had long since broken off from the rest of the office and were now sitting on an old, wooden pier several yards away from their co-workers.

"David was the one who suggested it," he confides, "we saw each other in New York and he thought it was a great idea."

"I think you'd be good at the job." Hermione thinks about how it would be at work without Ryan before shrugging her shoulders, she would be quitting soon anyway.

He keeps his eyes firm on the line of trees across the lake, "Thanks."

...

 **You have four (4) unread messages from [Ryan Howard (398) 268…]**

(4:38 pm) _i got the job_

(4:29 pm) _do you want to go out for a drink with me_

(4:29 pm) _after work ends?_

(4:58 pm) _we need to talk_

 **You have two (2) unread messages from [Boss (364) 749…]**

(4:40 pm) _i dont understand y ur quitting_

(4:42 pm) _did dwight do something?_

 **You have one (1) unread message from [Pam (859) 282…]**

(5:02 pm) _I hope you're alright._

 **You have four (4) unread messages from [Oscar (628) 174…]**

(4:53 pm) _What happened?_

(5:27 pm) _Gil is worried about you._

(5:27 pm) _And so am I._

(5:30 pm) _Drop by when you can._

...

Three days later, Hermione meets Ryan in a New York café that sells mealy coffee and dry scones.

They sit the furthest booth from the window – Ryan looks at her, his knees angled in a way that has them pressing hard against her thigh. There is something in how he looks at her, something about the way he doesn't break eye contact that stirs something foreign in her gut. Confused at first, she wracks her brain to understand what is going on. It hits her only as he leans towards her, hand cupping the back of her head and lips curling into a small smirk.

His fingers are tangled in her wild curls as he kisses her, when they finally pull apart he rests his forehead against hers and watches her through hooded eyes.

Ryan's lips are twisted into something… not smug, but there's a hard confidence in the curl of his grin. Something that makes him look secure, totally in control and it makes Hermione want to break that grin into fucking pieces until he's begging for her.

She drags his mouth back hers.

...

 **You have five (5) unheard messages.**

" _Hermione, it's your mom again, I just wanted to call and tell you that Harry was by. He's worri–_ "

 **Your message has been deleted.**

" _Hey, uhm… is this Hermione Granger? This is Michael, Michael Calliham, I work in the warehouse. I got your number from Pam– uh, Pam Beasley–_ "

 **Your message has been deleted.**

" _Hermione, it's Pam–_ "

 **Your message has been deleted.**

" _It's Oscar. Just wanted to tell you that you left your laptop on our kitchen counter, Gil was going crazy just looking at it–_ "

 **Your message has been deleted.**

" _I'm off work. Come ov–_ "

 **Your message has been deleted.**

...

Ryan's nails dig into her hips as he thrusts into her, the lines of her back hit against the tall stack of paper filled boxes behind them. The heavy boxes move with their every movement – Hermione throws back her head and pulls Ryan closer, knocking over a broom in the process.

Hermione Granger is fucking Ryan Howard in the supply closet of Dunder Mifflin's corporate office after hours.

Hermione closes her eyes and thinks about Britian and the magical world, thinks about going back to see her friends again, for real this time. No running away. No cowering from the bigotry. Hermione think _change it_ and both words, separately and together, make her throat close up. Ryan breathes heavily against her cheek, loudly in her ear. She thinks _change it_ again and feels the same tug of her eyes, like she might cry.

She pulls Ryan's lips to her own and whispers his name.

(Somewhere downstairs a light bulb splinters into pieces.)

...

 **You have three (3) unread messages from [Harry (488) 381…]**

(4:39 pm) _It was great seeing you Hermione_

(4:42 pm) _Ginny was overjoyed that you were there and so was James_

(4:43 pm) _I'm really happy you're back in touch_

 **You have two (2) unread messages from [Ryan Howard (398) 268…]**

(6:24 pm) _work is running over, I'll be home late_

(6:25 pm) _wear the white number for when i get home ;))_


End file.
